Six Days
by littledaybreaker
Summary: An account of the last six days prior to Lilah's death.


_Got sixteen days  
Got a bottle and a rosary  
God I wish that you were close to me  
I guess I owe you an apology _

_--Whiskeytown, Sixteen Days_

_Day One_

The blood has tipped him off. There isn't a lot, just a trail leading up the stairs, through the bedroom, and promptly ending at the (locked) bathroom door, which he pounds on. "Lilah?"

"Go away, Wesley."

"Are you all right in there?"

A sob, half amused and half miserable. "What do you think?"

"Are you bleeding?"

Actual crying now, and the door clicking. "S'open."

"Oh, God, Lilah." It looks like a murder scene. So much for those Neiman Marcus towels. Lilah sits on the edge of the filling tub, wrapped in one, already partially saturated with blood. She looks at him for a long time, trying to pretend that none of this is happening and failing miserably. "I'm pregnant," she finally manages, and then looks at the state of the bathroom. "Or was, anyway." And then she starts to cry, great sorrowful sobs, somehow devoid of dramatics and fuelled by actual grief. It's been a long time since Lilah has done this—not cry, for she does that rather often, just quietly and not in public, not ever in public—but cry like this, and it feels good, like an exorcism. Like a release. She lurches forward; crying harder, and then throws up. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, over and over, until it becomes not so much an actual apology as it is a security blanket, shielding her from the world.

"Can you walk?" Wesley finally says, snapping her out of it.

"I don't know," she replies, suddenly lucid. "Why?"

"We need to go to the emergency room."

"Yes. I suppose we do."

At the hospital, they give her a shot of something she can't quite recall the name of that makes her feel floaty and wonderful, after poking her and prodding her and telling her that she was lucky—the tissue had passed on it's own. She drifts off in the car on the way home and wonders if they gave her a prescription for whatever-it-was, because she hasn't felt this good in months. She dreams about the baby, small enough to fit in her purse and wrapped in a tissue. Why is she the only one who was already thinking of it as a baby?

_Day 2_

She is sound asleep by the time they arrive back at Lilah's apartment, and he hates how small and pitiable she looks, so he lugs her up to the bedroom and puts her in bed. There are dried tears on her cheeks and she looks uncharacteristically defeated. The bathroom is mostly a write-off but he cleans anyway. It is six o'clock in the morning by the time he finally finishes, and he hasn't slept at all. He hides the alcohol and leaves another sedative just in case, then drives home in enough time to change his clothes and arrive at work before even Angel.

"You look tired," Fred observes, stroking the back of his neck in a way that causes a spasm of sadness. "Are you sick?"

He isn't sure how to answer that, because he knows he'll end up telling her everything and he loves her so much that he doesn't want to hurt her in any way. "I'm fine," he replies, more briskly than he'd intended. She blinks, taken aback, looking as if she might cry. "Oh, Fred, I'm sorry." He holds out his arms in apology and she burrows into them. _This has to stop, _he thinks as he savors the delicious closeness of Fred. _You have something very important to deal with. It's time to move forward. _

At noon he leaves work and drives to Lilah's apartment. She'd called several days off the day before, so it is unsurprising to find her still asleep, the second pill untouched. Without thinking, he strips down to his underwear and crawls in next to her, snuggling close.

When Lilah finally wakes up, the sun is low in the sky and there is a warm body cuddled against her. On any normal day she would kick him out, but the last few days haven't been anything even remotely resembling normal. She wriggles free, however, to inspect the carnage in the bathroom and because she needs to pee. He's even put out new towels. Would it really be so bad to be in a relationship with this man, who cleans her bathroom and makes her soup and blows off work to cuddle with her? Of course it would. She shakes her head. _You've been home too long, obviously. Back to work tomorrow. _But for now? Wesley is still asleep in her bed. She takes the pill from her nightstand and climbs back in next to him.

_Day 3_

"Where were you yesterday afternoon?" Fred wonders when he arrives at work. "Don't worry, I told Angel you weren't feeling very good."

He smiles at her. "You were right."

Her face changes to an expression he's never seen before. "Liar. You were at Lilah's house. Why?"

"How did you know that?" he asks, genuinely surprised, but without waiting for an answer, he continues. "Sit. Let's talk."

He tells her everything, and at the end of the story, they're both in tears. "And the worst bit is, I don't even know if she'd have kept the baby anyway."

She reaches across and pats his hand and wonders why it is that everyone seems so happy on the outside, and yet, on the inside…even Angel seemed a little odd this morning, and where is he, anyway? The door crashing open answers Fred's unspoken question. She looks at Wesley and they realize at the same moment that this discussion will have to wait.

_Day 4_

_So Angel's lost his soul again, _Lilah thinks, _and we're all in a bloody conniption over it. Weird. _"What's so different about this time?" she asks. "I mean, the Happy Vamp Rescue Squad will come and undo it and all will be right in the world again, right?"

"They're not really sure what's going on at the moment, and neither do we. Apparently, he's got help. Back-up."

Lilah rolled her eyes. "Why doesn't someone just stake the bastard already?"

Meanwhile, poring over a text with Wesley, Fred is beginning to wonder he same thing, for different reasons. _It can't be very fun afterward,_ she thinks. _He's already spent centuries trying to make amends for his previous sins and now this… _

"Anything?" Wesley asks, and she shakes her head. "There's one thing we could do…" her says, and then he picks up the phone.

It surprises her that it's Cordelia, mainly because, although they've been keeping tabs on their activities, she still remembers Cordelia as the one she'd argued about shoes with, the one who'd called her a vicious bitch. Wolfram and Hart do not control Lilah's brain, not yet, anyway, and therefore Lilah cannot stop thinking of her as the high school cheerleader, the bitchy-and-yet-saccharinely sweet object of Angel's affection, so it's wholly surprising when it's her. _Technically, it's not, _she tells herself. _Technically, she's Jasmine, in Cordelia's body…_and then, there's no more thinking.

_Day 5_

Fred has the television turned to the news, and when she hears him come in, she turns it off.

"It's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"…Charles thinks he may have…"

"Yeah."

"Are you gonna…"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No, I…this is something I need to do for myself." He brushes his lips across her forehead lightly, and then goes to say goodbye to Lilah.


End file.
